F-Words

I am cheating a bit by posting this on my blog because it is another piece of homework set last month at our writing group. We each had to choose a word beginning with the letter 'F'. We chose Felicity, feckless, finickity,  fettle, frank, felucca and one other which I have forgotten. 

We then had to write a piece of prose or poetry using these F words. (an earlier post, a poem of mine, gives this away somewhat!).

Trouble is on this piece of prose I got a bit carried away (but I wasn't the only one).



A Fictonal But Fairly Factual Story of Fun and Foreboding.



First and foremost let’s face facts.  I am not a fan of Felicity Fairweather and I may be politically incorrect in saying this but I am known for being forthright and I am only being fair to you by sharing my true feelings and saying that I have found out that for some modes of transport, Felicity was far too fat.  Floating ferries maybe, but a felucca?  No.

Apart from being far too large, Felicity was French and a feisty female,  a bit facile, a bit of of a flbbertigibbet and far too gossipy and flighty. She was also flushed of face, fair of hair, and probably still fairly fertile for she was not yet forty-five.  Her latest beau Frank O’ Flaherty was a fop (a bit of a fool) to be honest (as they say far too often here in Wales); not forceful  at all but full of the flannel.  He was rich though and quite funny, if you like that  sort of thing and he had certainly played the field, sometimes in formal circles too; (his father had once won the fixed odds on the football pools, but that’s a fable I shall save for another day).  Frank was unfortunately prone to fixations and he fell far too fast for feisty Felicity and she, being without the talent for fascinating the male sex which some fortunate females possess, could  never dare to be finickity enough when it came to finding friends or would-be lovers. She didn’t really fancy Frank but for a while she feigned favourable feelings towards him, fawning over him in a slightly feline way (for she was far too susceptible to his flattery).

Patrick Francis O’Flaherty (Patrick being his first forename) was  of Fenian stock and was frankly feckless, especially on that fatal  foggy day on the fourth Friday in February last year. The couple were sailing on the Nile in a felucca during a frightful monsoon when their flimsy makeshift flag came adrift and floated far away downstream. Felicity had got in a flap, had fainted right off her feet and the felucca started leaking like a fountain.  Poor old Frank was never one to flip and feeling in such fine fettle, flexed his muscles and made a foolhardy attempt at fixing it by sticking his finger in the fissure.

To cut this far too frenetic story short, a frantic family feud , not the first, ensued between the ferocious owners of the felucca  (who had captured it all on film) and the fecking insurance company, (their ‘F’ words, not mine, the air was very frosty I can tell you and more than faintly blue)……..

Frank and Felicity’s relationship was somewhat shortlived and faded swiftly after that fateful date.

And Felicity?  Would she ever achieve fulfilment? I did wonder. However, she was never one to fret or be frightened of anything so she soon recovered and with no need for rehabilitation she quickly returned to her previous good form.  She never forgot Frank, she never forgave  him either but she  didn’t give a flying fig……………..she  just looked forward to her freedom.

And  Frank?  He may never be a high flyer but he wasn’t fearful of life either, rather the opposite.  He  looked forward to visiting France on the next available flight (he had a fear of boats) and to exploring fresh pastures and to fighting new frontiers…..and more than anything he relished finding a few fresh and more faithful French females (the fresher the better)…..



Cait O’Connor


If you would like to comment feel free to use F words (but only clean ones).